I’m trying to open my heart again,
slowly, carefully,
like it’s something fragile
I don’t trust myself to drop.
You’re kind.
You’re patient.
You give me no reason to doubt you—
and still, the doubt lives in me.
I keep wondering
if you’ll like the easy parts of me,
but hesitate at the rest—
the overthinking,
the past I carry,
the feelings that don’t always stay quiet.
I want to believe
you could love all of it,
not just the polished version
I show first.
But there’s this fear
that once you really see me,
once I stop editing my words
and hiding the messy pieces,
you’ll decide I’m too much,
or not enough in the right ways.
So I love you cautiously,
with hope in one hand
and hesitation in the other,
wondering if I’m brave enough
to be fully myself
and risk you walking away.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 10:19 AM UTC
I’m trying to open my heart again,
slowly, carefully,
like it’s something fragile
I don’t trust myself to drop.
You’re kind.
You’re patient.
You give me no reason to doubt you—
and still, the doubt lives in me.
I keep wondering
if you’ll like the easy parts of me,
but hesitate at the rest—
the overthinking,
the past I carry,
the feelings that don’t always stay quiet.
I want to believe
you could love all of it,
not just the polished version
I show first.
But there’s this fear
that once you really see me,
once I stop editing my words
and hiding the messy pieces,
you’ll decide I’m too much,
or not enough in the right ways.
So I love you cautiously,
with hope in one hand
and hesitation in the other,
wondering if I’m brave enough
to be fully myself
and risk you walking away.
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